


if i had a heart i could

by haipollai



Category: Captain America
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Assassins & Hitmen, Brainwashing, Genetic Engineering, Love against the odds, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 12:09:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haipollai/pseuds/haipollai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He needs to focus on getting out of the handcuffs. There are orders, he knows there must be because on the inside of his left arm is a rank and name and ID number. Soldiers get orders. He knows that like he knows the sky is blue though he can't remember being outside of this warehouse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if i had a heart i could

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'If I had a Heart' by Fever Ray  
> This is entirely beardsley's fault

Steve watches Bucky move around the room. It's big, a warehouse. Steve can see ten different exits, and identifies two things that can for sure be used as a weapon, as well as five other possibles. He knows he should be attempting to get to them and get out. But he can't stop staring at Bucky.

He's stripped out of his shirt, for the first time that Steve can remember (but Steve knows his memories can't be trusted, he can feel the tampering that has been done but he doesn't know by who, it's all been wiped clean). Bucky says they know each other and Steve has no reason to doubt or trust.

So he watches. The metal starts at the base of his spine, stretching up to his shoulders like an exoskeleton. It's as agile as Bucky is, moving with him. Over his shoulders, the metal covers his shoulders. Over the right, it stops at his shoulders, but on the left side, the metal extends down around his elbow. It's intricate and elaborate, he can see where the metal goes under the skin, likely plugged into his nervous system. Each connection is a weak point, Steve knows to target those for greatest impact.

There's a faucet, and Bucky sticks his head underneath. The closest thing he has to a shower. Water runs down his back, creating new designs over ink and skin and metal. Steve wonders what the water tastes like mixed with all those other things. He quickly shuts down that thought (he was commended once for his professional behavior. He thinks he was, it feels like something someone would tell him.) He needs to focus on details. The facts.

He needs to focus on getting out of the handcuffs. There are orders, he knows there must be because on the inside of his left arm is a rank and name and ID number. Soldiers get orders. He knows that like he knows the sky is blue though he can't remember being outside of this warehouse.

Bucky has filled up a bucket with water and the sudden silence as the tap is turned off snaps Steve's attention back to him. He lifts the bucket easily with his right hand, giving Steve no way of judging the left. There are more tattoos on his chest and stomach. One covers the side of his neck, beautiful line art of an eagle. Even if Steve doesn't understand the meaning behind the art, he knows it means Bucky has a high pain tolerance. Another fact to be filed away.

There is more metal on his chest too, over his clavicles, enhancement and support most likely, to handle the increased strain from the metal.

There is no warning as Bucky dumps the water over his head, sending Steve backwards in shock. He mentally curses at himself for getting distracted and not focusing on his target (lover). Bucky kneels down beside him and brushes Steve's hair away from his eyes.

"I know you don't trust me, and I know this is a stupid idea. But I need your brain working with me, so I'm going to untie you now." He easily lifts the chair Steve is on back up to all fours despite Steve's weight. He touches something on his wrist and there's a soft clicking noise and the cuffs falls away from Steve's wrists. Steve stands slowly, carefully testing his legs before putting too much weight on them.

"Why do you need my brain?"

"Because." He gives a small wry smile. "I'm fucking starving and we need to make sure they didn't damage anything in that beautiful head of yours while trying to erase everything. So two birds one stone." He holds his left palm up and open, activating some kind of projector in the palm. Steve realizes immediately that the left hand must be entirely metal, but covered with artificial skin. The projector shows a man, full body image, standard for all governmental IDs. "This is Justin Hammer, he's a low level robotics engineer, formally with Stark but has since tried to run away to make a name for himself with stolen tech. Two million credits for his head." Bucky looks at Steve through the image of Hammer. "Are you in?"

-

Steve watches Justin Hammer beg for life. He watches him plead and wonders if this is what it means to be human. Bucky watches but his expression is carefully guarded.

Hammer finally falls lifeless, choked to death.

"Does everyone beg like that?" He asks Bucky. He can read all the variables of the situation - the exits, how to disarm Bucky - but he can't read Bucky's face.

Bucky pulls a cigarette from one of his pockets and leisurely lights it. "No. Not everyone. Some people think their lives are worth saving."

"Do you?"

Bucky grins and rubs his thumb over the bird on his neck. "No. Not me."

-

During the next job, Bucky takes point and takes the kill on himself. They never go back to that warehouse where Steve woke up, bouncing instead between safe houses. Steve can tell that Bucky keeps an eye on him even when it seems he isn't. Steve understands, in this situation he is the variable. Pieces of the story have leaked out, but not the entire thing. Living without his memories has removed his motivations.

There are impressions, he knows he fought against Bucky in the past. Maybe tried to kill him, but Bucky trusts him more then a lethal enemy should. Bucky's actions have proven he doesn't have a death wish so Steve can cross out that variable.

He knows what the most logical answer is. It would explain why Bucky goes silent with some topics. Whoever Steve Rogers used to be in all those memories taken from him, he was important to Bucky.

It's night when Steve finally approaches him. They're outside of Beijing Two, in one of the sprawling suburbias that surround the city, and cling to it like lice hoping for the day it too can be incorporated into it. Bucky is seated on one of the beds, poking around inside his left arm. "You're doing all this to get him back, aren't you," Steve says flatly. Bucky glances up for a second to expression his confusion and then looks back down at his arm. "Whoever I used to be. That's why you're taking me on all of these jobs when I could kill you."

"You won't."

"What makes you so sure?"

Bucky sets aside the small screwdriver and truly looks at him. Steve wishes he was better with emotion, so he could understand. "You understand all the variables in a situation. It's how they enhanced you. A computer for a brain and the super strength to match. So if you saw killing me as the better option you would have done it the second I un-cuffed you."

Steve knows he's right but Steve still can't shake the feeling that with Bucky something else is influencing his decisions. His eyes fix on Bucky's arm. "What are you doing?"

"A bullet nicked my arm. The skin heals itself, but I'm not sure the mechanics are doing well."

He's moving to the bed before he can stop himself and sits down opposite Bucky. "May I?" There's a moment of hesitance and then Bucky holds out his arm. It's odd to see it with the false skin and shell pulled away to just the cybernetic interior. "It's beautiful. Why do you hide it?"

"Some parts of the world are suspicious about robotic hands," Bucky quips, holding up a small light for Steve to see. Steve doesn't tell him that his eyesight naturally compensates, it's strangely nice to be working together. He experiments briefly, touching different fiberoptic cables to see what they do. He watches each of Bucky's fingers twitch, then strokes across all the cables at once, making Bucky's hand a fist.

"You're letting me?"

"Of course, I still have mental control of the arm. But it's like me hitting you…" He pokes Steve's side, making him jerk. "There. It's reflex but you can compensate."

Steve takes a second to gather himself. It's an odd feeling in his chest, strange and new and incredibly familiar at the same time. "You trust me," Steve whispers, as if he has to say it out loud to make it real.

"Yea, I know it's stupid, but it's complicated."

"Is this why you know I won't kill you?"

"Related."

They fall into silence, Steve carefully checking over all the connections in Bucky's arm until Bucky is satisfied that everything is in order and withdraws his arm, closing it and sealing everything back up. Steve's hands immediately feel empty without the solid weight in them. "How is the warmth simulated?" He asks. His hands are empty but he can fill the silence. 

"Machinery gets warm too," Bucky gives him a small amused smile. They're in each others space still and neither makes an effort to move away. "It's released through the skin just like with flesh and bone." He holds out his hand, palm up. It is the first time in the weeks they've worked together that Bucky has invited Steve to touch. Steve lightly touches his fingers to Bucky's palm. It feels normal, maybe a little more firm then real skin, but nothing noticeable. Steve trails his fingers up to Bucky's wrist. He has one tattoo that he didn't chose to get right there. Steve has an almost identical one, his name and serial number and underneath a bar code.

"We had to pay two thousand cred a piece to get those codes wiped," Bucky murmurs, as if he doesn't want to disturb Steve's exploration. "The data is all still on some computer somewhere, impossible to get to that without taking the entire damn network down, but if someone scans that code, nothing's gonna show up. Damage to the cellular structure. Yours has probably been fixed."

"We went through a lot together."

Bucky smiles tightly. Bits and pieces, that's all Steve can get out of him. But he is good with bits and pieces and the entire image is starting to come together. Steve focuses on moving up Bucky's arm, tracing the lines of tattoos. There are words and images, some of it seems to make no sense, an ouroboros tangled with the Russian word for widow, a wasp and some kind of archaic script. Bucky watches dispassionately, these symbols are records, not a diary. A tally.

Steve wants to ask about the tattoo on his neck. Before he thought it was an eagle, but up close he can't tell. "How did they capture me?" comes out of his mouth instead.

"What makes you so sure I haven't just stolen you?" Bucky grins, leaning forward slightly.

Steve runs his thumb over the join between metal and flesh and Bucky shivers. There have been other times Steve has noticed Bucky reacting when his left hand has been touched and he wants to know how good the synthetic nerve endings are. "Your stories aren't lies."

Bucky's eyes dart away, the challenge faltering for a moment but then his gaze is back, locked onto Steve's. "We were set up. And when you figured it out, you set up the variables to get me out. Sacrificing yourself." His lips curve down in a frown and Steve reacts. There are no variables to consider, he leans forward without thinking, pressing his lips to Bucky's. Muscle memory takes over, he has done this countless times even if he can't remember. Bucky moans into the kiss, and kisses back as if he has been starving for this.

He slides fully into Steve's lap, pushing him back onto the bed and it doesn't matter that it's awkward and Steve's head hangs over the edge. The kiss doesn't end.

Steve curls his fingers around Bucky's elbow, around metal and flesh. "What can you feel?" He whispers against Bucky's lips, pressing his thumb into the sensitive inside of his elbow and feeling Bucky's pulse race.

"Everything." He rocks his hips so Steve can feel exactly what he means.

"I-" His answer, his analysis, is cut off when Bucky yanks Steve's pants down to his knees and the roughness of Bucky's pants rub against his cock.

"I used to wonder how sensitive you were, if you could use that computer brain to shut off all feeling to stay focused." Bucky curls his hand around Steve's erection and strokes slowly, as if they are only continuing their earlier conversation. It doesn't take much to get Steve to full hardness, as if his body simply remembers how it is supposed to react to Bucky. 

"I wish I could remember you." His lapse into emotion is rewarded with a squeeze.

Bucky presses his lips to the pulse point in Steve's neck (Steve's mind calculates the chance of Bucky biting down and through to the vein without prompting). "Well Mr. Computer Brain, if you want it that bad there might be a way." His lips press to Steve's before Steve can answer. "But let's see how you feel in the morning. Shut up now."

Bucky prepares them both with practiced ease and Steve can't tear his eyes away to Bucky finger fucking himself, teasing himself with his other hand to keep his erection from flagging. There are no calculations for this (not enough data), for the way Bucky fucks himself on Steve, knowing all the moves Steve doesn't. Knowing how to get Steve off while Steve is left scrambling to return the favor.

It's a rush, there's no thinking for once and Steve trusts Bucky not to take advantage of that. 

-

They make their way back to Borough 13 within New York City. To Sam Wilson. Steve knows in an abstract sense that Sam erased whatever programming was put in after his old memories were erased. Sam Wilson is a hacker extraordinaire, specializing in the human brain.

Bucky perches on the seat that Sam points him too, radiating discomfort. Steve wonders if pointing out the exits, and how Sam's sharper tools - plugs and scalpels and what looks like a soldering tool - are not locked up. He's touching the tattoo again, visible over his shirt collar.

"So the Company with all their favorite toys, puts chips in your head. Round One, you had them disabled so you couldn't be tracked, but it's almost impossible to fully turn off the data record feature," Sam explains, fitting a pair of goggles over his eyes and clicking away at what was likely an infrared keyboard, the movements picked up by his gloves. Steve could only watch his fingers dance, everything else was invisible to even his eyes.

"I know all this," Bucky snaps.

"I'm not talking to you," Sam pushes the goggles back up and turns to Steve. "The chip is hardwired in basically to try to prevent tampering. Your brain could handle a complete deactivation, Bucky's couldn't. So your chip is there just taking up space, his has been recording constantly. I can't transfer shit, unless you want me to start cutting your skull open, but I can let you see them. Like a movie. It's going to be weird, the memories are from his point of view-"

"Do it," Steve interrupts. He's figured out the variables. If he does this, he can be a better partner to Bucky. They can work together like he knows they're supposed to. Sam looks at Bucky and Bucky looks at Steve.

"I hope you know what the fuck you're doing, Wilson," Bucky grumbles, finally sinking down to sit properly in the chair. He looks at Steve as Sam puts him under. There's a flare of panic in Bucky's eyes and then they fall shut. Sam works quickly after that, tossing another set of goggles at Steve. There are wires that Sam connects to Bucky, pushing aside his hair to insert into his head and that run to the goggles that Steve puts on.

"You ready, Rogers?" Sam asks. He looks truly concerned and for the first time Steve wonders what he might see.

-

It takes awhile for the sedative to wear off and Bucky to wake up. So Steve has time to sit and think. It had been disorienting to see himself from Bucky's point of view. To see him struggle, with experiment after experiment, to watch them run away together. The look on Steve's face when they fucked (in a dirty alley, their pants around their legs despite Steve's repeated whispers that this was dangerous.)

He watched the company catch him and Bucky get him back out even as Steve tried to follow orders and kill him.

"You two are really something else you know," Sam says holding out a mug of something. It could be drugged, selling them back would be easy money. But Bucky let Sam put him under, let him into his head where he has barely allowed Steve. So Steve takes a sip of the drink. It's coffee, weak but it's definitely coffee. 

"What does that mean?" Steve asks guardedly, watching out of the corner of his eye as Sam pulls up a chair and settles down.

"You were both designed to be killing machines."

"We do kill." And they're good at it. He doesn't need Bucky's memories to know that they're some of the best, either with the Company or freelance.

Sam snorts into his own drink. "Yea but killing machines aren't supposed to develop feelings stronger then what the Company programs into them." Bucky finally starts to stir, blinking slowly. One hand reaches out for Steve, fingers curling around Steve's fingers. "See?" Sam murmurs.

"But I was the one programmed," Steve argues. Bucky is freedom. Bucky is _his_ freedom and he doesn't want to face a change in the variables that Bucky being programmed would bring. But he knows as soon as the words leave him that it's true. He saw it in bits and pieces from the memories given to him. The trainings and the beatings, over and over to prove a point until they had nothing but pain and their lessons.

"You're both products of the Company, you think they would let anyone out and about with free will?" Sam pats him on the shoulder. "I'll give you two a moment, there's a room set up downstairs for you two to crash for awhile, figure out your next move." Bucky is more conscious now, looking disoriented as he struggled to both wake up and follow the conversation.

"How…" Steve starts but stops himself before the question comes out too technical. "How do you feel?" He tries again.

"Like shit, hate drugs, fuck with my head." Bucky manages a tight smile but it fades quickly. "How are you? All those memories assimilate properly?" He cuts himself off with a yawn and lies back down. "Sorry, still feeling it."

"Sam has a room for us. We can talk there."

The metal weighs Bucky down, but Steve still has enough strength to support him and keep him from stumbling when his feet get tangled up. "You'd think with all this fucking metal in my arms and back they'd spare some to make the rest of me up to par," Bucky grumbles as they head downstairs. Steve's never seen Bucky so unguarded (false; he's seen Bucky's memories and he's seen his reaction to Bucky's unguarded moments. He has never _experienced_ them before) and it makes him hold him a little closer, a little tighter.

-

Bucky laughs when Steve presses his finger tips to the tattoo on his right hip and leans down to drag his tongue over the one on his neck. "I saw the others. You let me see when you got all of them," Steve mumbles against his skin. Bucky tastes like sweat and copper. He drags his tongue over the seam between skin and metal, seeking out the most sensitive parts to make Bucky shudder and gasp.

"Be direct," Bucky teases. "Use your words."

"What does it mean?" Steve pushes himself up so he can look down at Bucky, so there's no hiding. He's learning that Bucky is good at hiding.

"It means," he says softly, eyes darting away and back and away and back. "It means that there was a man, who I cared for a lot. I made a mistake and I lost him. I thought for good. So I got something to carry something of his spirit with me."

"Did you ever get him back?"

Bucky rests his hands on Steve's thighs. He seems scared to answer. "I think so. Did I?"

Steve doesn't answer with words. Words can be twisted or forgotten, but his hands still hold their muscle memory and he knows to kiss Bucky by one of the ports on his chest, right above a nipple. He tongues around the edge, making Bucky choke back a moan. Steve wants to ask him to be louder but he doesn't want Sam to overhear them. This is all theirs. Bucky curls a hand in his hair and uses it to push him down, until his head is level with his cock. He's hot and heavy on Steve's tongue and even here he can taste copper, like the metal has infused with every part of him.

Steve's brain makes him something different then human, the super strength and speed aren't obvious physically, he can hide those. With Bucky, it's his body that makes him as different. And Steve loves it.

He pulls back before Bucky can come, ignoring his desperate pleas. He wants to touch and see the way Bucky's body moves. Once Bucky understands what Steve wants, the pleading stops and he's malleable under Steve's hands. His legs wrap around Steve, pulling him as close as possible until they're fitted together. Steve can feel each gasp and moan echoing through Bucky's chest as they move together in short, desperate jerks. He isn't sure what falls under the definition of 'loving' (love [luhv] noun a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person) but he thinks for them this might be it. The exposed metal is cool on Steve's flushed skin but everything else about Bucky burns.

Bucky burns and Steve will ignore every voice of caution in his brain to go with him, to feel nothing but him. 

-

They leave three days later, disappearing in the vast sprawl of New York. The original five boroughs of the old city tower high enough that they block out the sky. Not that they have any interest in seeing it. The sky is overrated, their business takes them down into the underground, where people who need someone killed are looking for someone to hire.

It doesn't matter if they're the incredibly wealthy of the sky scrapers, with windows above the ever present smog that let in sunlight. Everyone comes down to the underworld eventually. Steve and Bucky just have to be patient, Steve moreso. Bucky knows all their connections, he knows what corners to look around and what doors to knock.

Steve trails after him, looking for what could go wrong, keeping track of all the variables. He wonders if he's losing something, focusing so hard on how to keep Bucky safe. Bucky touches him and kisses him but the passion from that night at Sam's seems far away. Another life time.

"You think too much," Bucky says bluntly, pushing a bowl of noodles into Steve's hand. They're pressed close together against a wall since there are no seats left at the small food stand. 

"I'm supposed to."

"No, I mean yea, you are but not all the time." Bucky pushes his noodles around in their bowl. "Not with me," he whispers. Steve can still hear it anyway. Images from Bucky's memories come up unbidden, of Steve smiling at him.

"I-"

Bucky looks up with a small, quirky grin. "Got a hit. It's a bit out of the way, have to head to the Frisco Sprawl, but won't be hard to get there and pays well."

Steve nods and focuses on eating. He finishes before Bucky and it's when he's making his way back to the food stand to return his bowl that he sees the small kitten, hiding underneath a parked rickshaw. Cars don't fit in the crowded underworld, rickshaws can barely make it through some of the streets that used to be wide boulevards. Buildings that could no longer go up had to go somewhere and filled the streets.

He crouches down to get closer to the kitten, it makes no logical sense, a kitten doesn't give them any advantage and could be a hindrance. Steve holds out his hand anyway, hoping it still smells enough like food to lure it out. It takes a minute, obviously it's scared of the world around it, so much going on. "I understand kitty," he murmurs. "It's a lot, but I promise it makes some sense sometimes." Slowly, the kitten comes out and brushes against his finger tips. Steve sits still, waiting for the kitten to become more comfortable. "It's hard to get used to being aware of everything that's going on, I bet you don't know what to make of all these smells down here." He scoops the kitten up easily, holding firmly when it whines and scratching it behind the ears until it relaxes.

Bucky is standing a few steps away, watching. "I hope you're not thinking of eating it, we can afford food." He seems nervous about coming any closer.

"I want to keep it safe." He flushes at how absurd that sounds. It's a kitten, Bucky's right, down here it probably is just food for some lucky sap. He remembers one of the rich targets they went after together had a dog that tried to bite through Bucky's arm and Steve crushed it's skull.

Bucky smiles slowly, almost in relief and takes the few steps forward to close the distance between them. His real fingers carefully brush over the kitten's side. "We can bring it to the safe house in Borough 3, it's cleaner and less likely to get broken into." Bucky kisses him softly and Steve realizes with the press of Bucky's lips against his, that he's smiling. Happiness in a life like theirs is illogical, but Steve can't stop. "Come on." Bucky's fingers stay on his elbow as they make their way through the press of the streets until they're far enough out to get transit to other Boroughs. "The job in San Francisco is for a Company employee," Bucky murmurs, mindful of everyone around them. "I thought…if you're willing- I'm tired of waiting for them."

It's big Steve knows. He can do the calculations of their odds and it's not good. 

Steve can see all the odds and he knows it's not bad either, there is a reason the Company wants them back so badly. "Let's do it, let's take the fight to them." They took away everything from Steve, he hates his life has been reduced to a few months of real memories. He's ready to return the favor.


End file.
